So what internal misalignment was my ever-wise body trying to make me notice through the manifestation of an autoimmune disease? My subconscious life-long belief that I wasn’t lovable, that I didn’t deserve to be in a committed relationship with a partner who would love, honor and respect me exactly as I was. I’m certain it was no coincidence that the disease had manifested and steadily worsened in concert with two consecutive toxic relationships, each of which had completely devalued me as a woman.
I’d misinterpreted the disease, specifically the scar on my face, as evidence that I was damaged goods, that no man would ever want to share with me the deep, committed loving partnership for which I yearn. When the disease showed up smack dab in the middle of my face, surely it meant I was doomed to a life of resentful loneliness.
The negative, subliminal influence on my self-worth crept into all areas of my life. From relationships with family and friends to the workplace, my attitude prominently projected my self-perception of ugliness. Because I was so unhappy inside, I showed up angry and resentful on the outside. The disease had invaded my life, replacing every crevice that joy previously had occupied.
Then I had a pivotal turning point when a different possibility snuck into my dark, self-isolated world. As an inspirational exercise for a painting and writing course that I was taking, my fellow female students and I were to share photos of ourselves that captured our beautiful radiance. How was I to do that when I felt as far from beautiful as the Moon is from Earth?
I asked my sister, Jane, to take my picture while on a trip together, and I blew up at her because I hated the images of myself on the camera. I felt awful, and it wasn’t until I apologized that I began to see that my anger was an expression of sadness and self-pity. She compassionately explained that she saw beyond the scar on my face because it didn’t represent who I was to her. If she could still see me for my loving soul and not my disfigurement, then why couldn’t I?
A happier me snapped by my sister the day after her initial photo taking had led to a blowup between us. That exchange ultimately gave way to my insight on what this disease had come to stand for and my determination that it would no longer dictate my life.
Our conversation opened my eyes to how ill placed were my beliefs about myself and served as an instrumental catalyst for my journey of physical and spiritual healing. Thank you, Jane, for always being my biggest cheerleader and fan.
I now know that as long as I hold lies to be true about myself, then the Universe – even my own body – responds as if they are fact.
If I live in the courage of what IS true, that I am completely lovable and worthy of committed love and devotion, then the world also responds in kind. Such love and devotion begins with me embracing and loving myself, all of my beautifully imperfect self.
My triumphant experience with an otherwise incurable disease has taught me to pay acute attention to the wisdom of my body.
If your body is speaking to you, listen and take heed. Doing so may well open you up to a healthier life of living in truth.
